


we can't rewind (you've gone too far)

by misura



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Noir
Genre: M/M, Werewolf Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:57:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16591253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: In which Tony spends a lot of time being annoyed by a national icon (aka Captain America) and also gets his life saved a couple of times by a werewolf whose identity is super mysterious and totally unguessable. (All right, you guessed it.)





	we can't rewind (you've gone too far)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [willidothefandango (nagth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagth/gifts).



At first sight, the situation was desperate, bordering on hopeless. Six against one weren't bad odds if that one was Tony Stark, scourge of the criminal underworld, but when those six were armed with energy weapons, courtesy of HYDRA and Tony only had a handkerchief, it altered things somewhat.

On the bright side, if Rhodey showed up, he'd be able to signal his position. Until then, he might take comfort in the knowledge that at least he wasn't about to go to his death entirely naked.

"Surrender now or die!"

'Surrender _and_ die' would be more like it. On the other hand, every second he drew this out was an extra second for the cavalry to show up.

In that spirit: "Gentlemen. Can we talk about this like civilized human beings? Anyone maybe got a spare shirt I can borrow? Some pants?"

A rock that had looked like good cover three seconds ago evaporated. 

Good to know they didn't want him alive. True, if they'd had orders to keep him alive, that might have bought him a bit more time, but on the other hand: capture, torture, human experimentation. All that fun stuff.

Someone howled.

Correction: some _thing_ howled. Tony risked a glance, but the dust from the last evaporated rock hadn't quite settled yet so all he saw was a vague blur. It looked a bit like a wolf, albeit a rather big one, which might have worried him if (1) Tony hadn't already reached his worry-threshold of the day and (2) the animal hadn't been headed in the opposite direction.

"Werewolf!" someone yelled, right before things got very, very loud and confusing.

 

"Mister Stark? Tony?"

_Rhodey._ Not dead then, which was always good to know. "That was close. Waiting to make a dramatic entrance, were you?"

"I leave that sort of stuff to you," Rhodey said. "How are you feeling?"

"Hurt." Tony considered. "Thirsty. Is there any real, edible food?"

Jarvis stalked over, looking overjoyed as usual to get to do a bit of fussing and 'I told you so'ing. It came from a place of love, Tony knew. Didn't make it any more fun, though. "Where does it hurt?"

"When did you get bitten?" Tony looked at Rhodey. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jarvis muttered and opened his bag of medical equipment.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rhodey said. "Did you hit your head?"

Tony weighed the cons and pros of making a scene. With Jarvis here, he wouldn't be able to go all out though, and it was possible that Rhodey only wanted to tell him in private. Best to let it go for now, he judged. It could wait.

Speaking of things that could wait: "Where's the new guy? Don't tell me we lost him already."

"Mr Rogers is perfectly fine," Jarvis said.

"Pretty sure that's 'Captain' to us mere mortals," Tony said. "But great. Good to hear we didn't get a national hero killed on his first crossover adventure."

 

The story, in short, was this:

one day, a very average looking man in a very average looking suit had shown up in Tony's office. He'd informed Tony that he'd been sent by the Ministry of Defense, and would Tony perhaps be interested in performing a great service for his country?

Tony was, of course, a patriot. He'd survived a number of encounters with America's enemies already, and had no fondness for the Nazis and their ilk. However, might he inquire as to the exact nature of the service in question before committing himself?

Sadly, no details could be provided at this time, but it would be a small, simple thing, hardly worth mentioning. It should pose no inconvenience or trouble whatsoever, let alone danger.

Tony opined that this sounded doable. At the same time, he hoped it was understandable that he would hesitate to agree to something of such an unclear and mysterious nature.

This was indeed understandable. Alas. The man's hands were tied. He had given what information he himself had been given: might he now receive Tony's answer?

Tony'd been in a good mood. A little drunk, perhaps. A hot date to look forwards to. No friends killed or lost for six months and counting.

He'd said yes.

And so here they were, and he had nobody to blame but himself.

 

All else aside, Rogers sure had the looks of a hero. If 'blonde, tall and muscled' was your type, you couldn't do better than Rogers.

Tony preferred 'dark-haired, short and lean'. He also rather liked people who didn't seem hell-bent on making him feel like a lower life-form. Tony knew his own flaws and failings quite well, thank you. He didn't need someone around to point them out.

"Could have used you down there," he said, before Rogers could annoy him by pretending to be concerned about his health. "Busy cleaning your shield or something?"

They made _movies_ with Rogers. Not very long ones, and it wasn't as if Tony wanted the fuss of an acting career. It was the injustice that got to him, the sheer unfairness of it.

"You seemed to be doing okay," Rogers said, after a quick look up and down.

"Oh, so you were there. Observing from a safe distance. Smart."

Rogers's face briefly hinted at an emotion. "You seemed to be doing okay," he repeated, his tone suggesting Tony was being unreasonable here.

"I'm curious. Will you be doing anything at all this next week, or are you only going to be there for the photo shoots and interviews?"

"I don't want to get in your way," Rogers said, as if that should be Tony's main concern - rather than, say, tracking down a legendary artifact HYDRA was using to powers its weapons.

"Considerate of you." More like: no guts, all the glory.

"I try," Rogers said. "Glad to see you're all right."

Tony managed not to throw anything at him on the way out of the room.

And then people suggested he had trouble keeping his emotions and impulses in check.

 

_Trap,_ Tony thought. At least he'd managed to improvise a signal to warn off Rhodey. _Trap_

He'd sent the word sixteen times already, in morse code, over the course of the past half hour. Probably a good thing he only needed to press a button: his fingers felt like they might have been frozen solid. Writing would have been impossible.

Escape, now. That might be on the table, if he played his cards right. It was a waiting game. Lousy odds, as usual. His specialty.

_Trap._ They'd probably give his part to Rogers in the movie. Brave Captain America, using his last bits of strength to save his friends and allies, resigning himself to death.

Tony had resigned himself to nothing other than another four days of being required to put up with a guy more interested in polishing his shield and patching up his uniform than in actually doing anything heroic. It was all propaganda. All lies. Fake.

As soon as Tony got home, he was going to burn his Captain America collector's cards, and his Captain America video collection. He'd smash his Captain America coffee mug, even though it had been a graduation present from Pepper. (Her graduation, not his. She'd quit the day after, so maybe she'd intended it as more of a farewell present, but Tony preferred not to think of it that way.)

_Trap._ Something was moving out there, in the dark and the snow. _Trap._

If he died right here, wouldn't that be perfect? Hard to make a patriotic movie out of that.

The door creaked.

_Trap._ His hands were so damn cold. They'd been cold before, of course. Lots of times. Nothing new under the sun. He tried to find new things, new experiences. New adventures.

People like Rogers, they didn't understood what life was really about.

_Tr-_ Warmth. A weight on his chest. For one moment of blind panic, he thought it was a heart attack, that this was it, do not pass Go, up to the pearly gates and fare thee well, cruel world.

Something wet and warm nuzzled his cheek. His hands touched fur.

_Saved by the werewolf._ As a title, it lacked a certain pizzazz.

Oh well. Time to take a nap. He'd think about it some more after he woke up.

 

"Let me guess: the shield isn't snow-proof, and you didn't want to risk it getting all rusty."

Rogers flushed. Tony awarded himself a couple of points. Not that he was keeping score or anything. (He was definitely in the lead.) "You think you know everything, don't you?"

"Pretty sure I've got your number, princess," Tony said.

"You think this is the way I wanted this to go?" Rogers asked. Three days ago, Tony would have scored five points for getting him to even show a glimmer of emotion.

Kind of felt like shooting fish in a barrel right now. He wondered what had changed.

"So tell me," he invited. "Lay it on me. What's got Captain America's panties all twisted in a bunch?"

"I've known you for three weeks. You almost died twice," Rogers said.

"The key-word being 'almost'. And I'm touched, don't get me wrong, but what gives? You've known me for nearly a month - grand. Let's not pretend that makes us bosom buddies."

"I've read all your adventures. I thought getting to meet you would be - " Rogers shook his head.

"Always nice to meet a fan."

That finally did it: Rogers closed his mouth with a nearly audible snap and glowered at him.

Tony grinned back. He might regret it tomorrow, or five minutes from now, but in this moment, he felt superior to Captain America, and by god, he was going to savor the sensation.

Rogers growled.

Tony's stomach did an odd little flip. It wasn't a sound he'd ever heard before - quite. "You - "

Captain America, a werewolf? Tony didn't even want to think about the headlines for that one. Sure, it did explain the heightened physical abilities, the superstrength, the inability to so much as catch a cold. In fact, it explained pretty much everything, and very neatly, too.

He wondered if the super soldier serum even existed. He wondered who'd come up with the idea of pretending it did.

Werewolves didn't win wars. Werewolves didn't inspire people to buy war bonds by lifting a motor cycle over their head, or by punching out some poor actor dressed up like Hitler. Werewolves were what the Germans and Russians had created in their evil laboratories. Faerietale monsters made real by mad science. Werewolves were, at best, victims.

"Me?" Rogers snarled. "How about you? Endangering your life like it's worthless? Plunging straight into danger without so much as a heads-up? Do you even know how close you came to dying that last time? Do you even care?"

Okay. So they weren't going to talk about the werewolf thing. That worked for Tony.

"I care. I also care about other stuff. Small, unimportant stuff. Like saving the world."

"You are impossible!"

Given the evidence, such as the fact that he existed, Tony might have argued that actually, he was perfectly possible, but Rogers had grabbed him (a little alarming) and pressed his lips to Tony's (far less so) and seemed intent on sucking all the air out of his lungs, which rather seemed like an excellent plan with which Tony was happy to cooperate.

"Impossible," Rogers repeated, staring at Tony as if -

Tony smirked. "Like I said: always nice to meet a fan. You want to maybe close the door before we go on?"

Rogers produced a soft noise that sounded a bit like a moan, before he went and did as Tony had suggested.

_This might work out rather nicely after all. Although this is probably going to be one scene that won't make it into the movie._


End file.
